Snowflake
by anasiana
Summary: A woman invades... If this is your first night at Fight Club, you have to fight.
1. Chapter 1

How the hell did she end up here? Back presses up against a concrete wall, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. A spider, a silent observer. Just another shadow on the wall.

Bodies milled around her, sweating, bare flesh in a writhing mass around a man in the center.

"First rule of Fight Club…" The voice sent a thrill through her, heading straight to her core. "You do not TALK about Fight Club." It was like a war chant. The collective pulse of the room quickened, and the temperature rose. The milling became faster as the men became more restless, eager, with each rule recited.

"If this is your first night at Fight Club… You have to fight."

The impact of fist upon flesh punctuated the last rule. Cheering started immediately as the two men, one of which was the man who declared the rules, went down on the cement floor, struggling for dominance. Her curiosity began to overtake her, and she peeled herself off the wall in an attempt to peer over the crowd. The smell of blood and sweat, and…and _man_ was overwhelming, and sent her body humming. The twisting bodies on the floor began to slow as fresh blood stained the already darkened floor. The leader eventually ended up on top, arm wrapped around the other man's throat, a sadistic smile slapped across his face. The man beneath him let out a howl and a strained "stop", and the conqueror dropped him nonchalantly. Standing up and wiping blood from his eyes, he scanned the crowd, and landed dead on her.

Ducking back below the sea of men, she tried to steady her suddenly rapid heartbeat. She had attempted to dress as unremarkably as possible, but she was still one of the only ones in the room with a shirt still on. She glued herself back onto the wall, shrinking again. She dared not raise her head again, even though she missed the next three fights. But the smell was enough to keep her breath fast and her blood hot. She closed her eyes and let the sounds and smells overtake her, her fingers digging into the cement at her back. She stayed like this as the current fight ended, and the next began, her body twitching to the rhythm of the pounding fists and shouted cheers.

"What are you doing here, Snowflake?" The voice was in her ear, breath on her neck, body pressed against her side. Her eyes snapped open, and she turned sharply, ending up face to face with the leader himself. She took a step back, but he grabbed her arm, pulling her back. "You don't belong here."

As the fight raged on in the center of the basement, he dragged her up the wooden steps to the bar above, unseen by the rest of the crowd. She stumbled up the steps after him, too shocked to fight back. He pulled her into the barroom, shutting the heavy basement door behind them.

"You should leave." She stood dumbfounded. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He cocked his head, and the same sick smile spread across his face. "But you won't, won't you?" He walked casually towards her, with a predatory slowness. She backed up again, only to hit a wall. He didn't stop until he was inches from her face, and she could see the individual beads of sweat that collected on his forehead and chest, and the chip in his left front tooth. "In that case, you've gotta follow the rules."

He took a step back, sizing her up. "No shirt, no shoes." She found herself following his orders without thought, kicking off her ratty sneakers. She pulled the loose white tee-shirt over her head, and stood before him. He gazed at her for a second, then continued.

"Fights will go on as long as they have to." He paused again, and she nodded.

"And if it's your first night at Fight Club, you have to fight." He descended upon her.

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Continue?


	2. Chapter 2

_So... this happened._

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Sucking in as much air as her lungs could hold, she curled her fist and sent it swinging for his face. He caught it easily, slamming her hand back onto the wall behind her with a taunting smirk on his lips.

"When you throw a punch," he purred into her ear, hand creeping up her back, "you don't curl your fingers until the very last second." He punctuated his statement by fisting his hand in her hair, wrenching her away from the wall, ridding her of any defense she might have had. He slammed her up against the bar, and a tap dug into her back, sloshing beer down the back of her legs. "That's how you keep the power behind it."

She struggled and writhed in a feeble attempt to get out of his grasp, but his smile only grew larger. His grip loosened slightly, seemingly out of pity, and she tore her head away, spinning away from the bar. Before he could react in earnest, she took another swing at him, this time following his advice.

She caught him square in the cheek with a resounding thud. He seemed stunned for a minute, then let out a bellowing laugh, spitting pink phlegm onto the floor. He ran a hand through the dirty spikes on his head before returning the strike to her stomach. She let out a startled grunt, and flung herself at him. She pounded at him, chest and shoulders, and he took it until she was gasping and exhausted, then grabbed her by the back of her neck and forced his lips against hers. She bit his lip , but couldn't tell if the blood she tasted on him was from that or his previous hits.

He stepped towards her, forcing her to step awkwardly back, reaching out a hand to guide her as he refused to let go of her head, hand gnarled in her hair just as roughly as before. She could feel him grin as she snarled into his mouth, then forced her tongue into it. He pulled away then, teasing her. His lips went to her neck, and he pressed hard into her already tender stomach. She let out a near silent whimper, but he heard, and pressed himself in harder. This time she let out a legitimate gasp, followed by what might have been a moan.

"Should have known you'd be a masochist," he chuckled softly. The hand that had previously been digging into the curve of her hip traced up to cup her breast almost tenderly. A sharp pinch alleviated the gentleness. His head ducked down to give the other side a quick nip, before yanking her away from the wall and slamming her down on the bar yet again, this time face down. The air rushed out of her lungs with a huff, and he was upon her before she could catch it again.

His hands were rough and demanding as he shoved down the last of her clothing, leaving her with goose bumps from the chill of the wooden bar. She was still wet from the spilled beer that now pooled on the floor, but it went beyond that. His finger slipped between her legs and he let out what could only be described as a growl. If she had been inclined to protest, he was inside her before she could have. She went lurching forward with the power of his thrust, her hips digging into the edge of the bar. He braced himself with one hand against it, and the other coiled in the hair from her now sore scalp, twisting his wrist and pulling her back towards him so her back bent painfully. He sunk his teeth into the soft flesh at the base of her neck as he claimed her, leaving her gasping and whimpering.

Her knees buckled, and she slid halfway down the bar, held up only by his hand in her locks and the cock she was impaled upon. He lowered her to the ground, letting go of her hair. She lay down on her back, now savoring the cool wood on her sore body and taking huge gulps of air. He stole it away from her again, as if he were trying to suck her soul out from between her lips. He slipped back in to her, much slower, making her moan. He would make her suffer now, keeping her just on the edge of the precipice of bliss before yanking her back until she was screaming. Her nails dug into his back, drawing blood, making him hiss and lose his measured pace for a moment. He got his revenge by pulling out of her, and running a single fingertip over her that made her shiver and mewl.

"Just let go," he purred, "you can't win." She kept her mouth tightly shut, glaring at him as he let out another snarling laugh. "But you're not one to do as your told, are you?" He grabbed her hips and lifted them off the floor, and then plunged into her. He fucked her harder than she could ever remember being fucked, and she came, rippling around him and drawing blood from his shoulders. Her head went numb. He was talking to her as he ravaged her, insulting her, degrading her, cursing her, but she heard none of it. He slammed into her one last savage time before spilling himself in her, feral noises cascading from his lips. He hovered above her, chest heaving, for a moment that almost seemed sweet out of context. He got up, however, leaving her bone-chillingly cold. He pulled his jeans back on before gathering her things and throwing them at her. She stood up slowly, legs still quivering. She pulled the garments back on, picking off some already drying blood from her skin.

"Get out," he said flatly, using his foot and a rag to clean up the spilled beer. She didn't respond, just grabbed her shoes from where they lay and walked towards the door. She stopped to put them on, and heard the basement door slam as he returned to his following. Pulling on her left shoe, something poked her toe. Pulling it off again, she stuck her fingers in the shoe, only to emerge with a business card held between them.

Paper Street Soap Co.

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_Hope you enjoyed. I'm mildly inebriated writing this, so if you find any errors please let me know. All reviews are good reviews._


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